Blood on Celluloid

by B. L. Morgan

  The world was swimming around me. I was moving in super slow motion or not at all.

  I heard Candi scream, “Leave him alone!” I doubt she was talking about me.

  The Fffffftt’s had stopped and none of our guys were firing either.

  From my back I saw three men walk into the glare of the spot lights. One was Lu Fan. Another was Tian Kham. The other one was a silver haired Caucasian man dressed in a three piece suit.

  The white man turned to Lu Fan. “I told you to get them all within the fence,” he barked at him.

  “I tried,” Lu Fan answered. “They would not listen to me. We will track them down in the jungle.”

  “That’s not good enough,” The man told Lu Fan. “I pay for total obedience. I get total obedience!”

  “I will try harder next time,” Lu Fan said.

  “There is no next time,” The white man said, and looked at Tian Kham and nodded.

  Tian Kham stepped back, drew a pistol from inside his jacket, put the barrel to the side of Lu Fan’s head and pulled the trigger.

  Lu Fan’s head exploded.

  Even with the bright white of a spotlight shining into my eyes, the night came down and claimed me.

  CHAPTER 43

  There’s a burning in my nostrils like something fowl smelling being shoved up my nose. My eyes flashed open and Tian Kham is holding smelling salts to my face. I came awake suddenly and tried to stand. My wrists were tied to the arms of a movie theater style seat. I jerked at the ropes holding me but they didn’t give one bit.

  Tian Kham smiled. “Good, you are awake now,” he said. “You can enjoy the show.”

  Shit! I thought. Why didn’t I just kill this asshole when I saw him at the gate and get it over with?

  “I know why you are here,” Tian Kham said. “You come for revenge. Perhaps being without the woman makes your life not worth living. If that is the case, then I will do you the favor of ending your miserable life.”

  I jerked at the ropes that held me some more, trying to rip the arms off the seat I was in, and failed. “Then get to it,” I told him. “There ain’t shit you can do that I ain’t seen before.”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “But we are here for entertainment and your deaths will entertain us.”

  He strode off and I looked around me.

  This place was a type of small stadium. Rows upon rows of seats were placed in a circular pattern bolted to the cement steps of a bowl-like structure. Down at the bottom was a large eight sided fenced in cage. Right now they had two little girls inside the cage slinging punches at each other.

  At the top of the highest row of seating two television style cameras on opposite sides of the cage, filmed everything that happened.

  Ron and Candi were sitting beside me, and beside them were the four William Po men who came through the fence with us. I was probably the last one they woke up with the smelling salts.

  We were in the row of seats closest to the cage, and looking through the fenced walls I could see that there were perhaps seventy spectators here.

  There was not one full grown woman among the crowd in the seats. All the spectators looked like they were middle aged men. Most of them had young boys and girls sitting with them that they openly fondled.

  Straight across from us, sitting among this crowd of middle aged perverts, on what could only be described as a throne, was the silver haired man who I’d seen beside Tian Kham when he’d executed Lu Fan.

  He had a bull horn in his hand. He raised it to his lips. He looked over at us. “Our uninvited guests have awakened from their beauty rest,” he announced into the megaphone. “Get the girls out of the cage and let’s show them how welcomed they are.”

  A man went into the cage and stopped the girls from battling. He ushered them out.

  Two men appeared with pistols at the far end of the line from where I was. One put his pistol to the head of the William Po man who was last in line.

  The other untied the rebel’s arms from the chair. They took him to the end of the row of seats and shoved him to the gate of the cage. The one in front unlocked the cage door and he was shoved inside.

  The man with the megaphone spoke again, “These men would come and take away from you the hard earned right to pay for any pleasure you see fit to purchase. They think they have the God-given right to do this. I think not.

  “The ancients had a way of letting The Almighty choose who was right in matters of morals. They called it Trial by Combat.”

  “The winner lives. The loser dies. The Almighty rules all destinies so he chooses who is right and who is wrong.

  “With that I give you our representative in this contest of conflicting morals.

  “Tarkus!”

  The crowd clapped and cheered, and from a door high above the rows of seats emerged a giant of a man. He stood easily over six feet seven and weighed somewhere in the neighborhood of two hundred and sixty pounds.

  This representative of warped divine justice looked like an escapee from the World Wrestling Federation. He had muscles on top of muscles and long black hair that hung down over a permanently scowling face.

  He bounded down the steps and threw open the door to the cage and jumped inside.

  The William Po man inside was a skinny little dude. He was outweighed by at least a hundred and twenty pounds.

  “Shit!” I told Ron and Candi. “This ain’t gonna be no fucking contest.”

  “There’ll be one when they get to me,” Ron barked out. Then he yelled to the silver haired guy who Tian Kham was now sitting beside, “Put him in with me. Let the mother-fucker fuck with somebody his own size!”

  They ignored Ron.

  In the cage, Tarkus moved toward the William Po man who backed off and ran around the edge of the cage along the fence. Tarkus chased him for a few steps then just stopped and looked at the man on the throne and waved his hand in the air like he was saying, “This guy ain’t shit.”

  The William Po man took that opportunity to run at the big man from behind and kicked him a good one in the leg. When Tarkus turned the William Po man unloaded a whole series of karate like blows into the stomach and chest of his opponent.

  Tarkus didn’t even move.

  He grabbed the William Po man by the hair of the head with his left hand and lifted him straight up in the air. Tarkus drew back his huge right fist and slammed it into the little guy’s face. The sound of breaking bones and snapping teeth was heard.

  The William Po man’s legs kicked a few times then he went limp. Blood poured from his nose and mouth, and several teeth fell and bounced on the concrete flooring.

  Tarkus hoisted the unconscious William Po man up over his head with both arms, and then slammed him down to the concrete as hard as he could. The little freedom fighter landed with a crunch and did not move again.

  “Bring me more!” Tarkus bellowed to the man on the throne as the dead man was dragged out.

  The other three William Po men were forced at gunpoint down into the cage.

  As soon as the cage door closed the three yelled some kind of battle cry and simultaneously charged the goliath in front of them. The problem was he charged them too.

  The two William Po men on both sides of Tarkus were clothes-lined flying from their feet. The other one, Tarkus just plain ran over and stomped beneath his boots.

  The one that went underfoot was totally out. The other two were seeing stars and were slowly trying to get their wits about them and regain their feet.

  Tarkus grabbed the unconscious guy by both ankles and slung him up in the air like a kid with a Raggedy Andy Doll that was having a temper tantrum. He slung the rebel freedom fighter up over his head and then reversed direction like a man splitting fire wood with an ax, and bashed in the head of a William Po man who was still on his knees with the head of the guy he was using for a club.

  The cracking together of their skulls sounded like a rock being used to crack open a coconut shell. The man on the cement started twitching al
l over like his brain wasn’t sending out the right signals to his body.

  Tarkus bashed him again to make him lay still, and then threw the bloody bag of rags that had once been a man at the remaining William Po man, who had just made it to a standing position.

  The last rebel fighter was knocked sprawling into the fence. When he tried to get back up, Tarkus body checked him into the fence. Then he slammed a hard elbow into his face.

  Bones snapped and blood flew.

  The crowd cheered. As a matter of fact they’d been cheering nonstop since this whole bloody spectacle began.

  Tarkus grabbed the William Po man up and hoisted him over his head, then drove him down head first into the concrete. The rebel started kicking and jerking all over the place so Tarkus leaped onto his chest. Then he jumped up and down caving in his chest cavity until the little guy was about as thick as a well-worn shag carpet.

  “You ain’t shit!” Ron yelled at the big guy.

  Candi leaned over and whispered to him, “Honey, don’t piss this guy off, OK?”

  “Fuck! They’re going to kill us anyway,” Ron said. “Before I go, I want to get me a piece of the biggest and ugliest mother-fucker that they’ve got, and I think that’s him.”

  Ron yelled again, “Come on you bastard! Fight someone your own size. I know why all you fucking idiots have to screw with children. You don’t have what it takes to satisfy an adult. You fucking disgust me, you sick sons-of-bitches!”

  Hell, Ron was taking all my best lines. That’s fine. Today, he could have them.

  Tarkus looked to where we were and pointed at Ron. He spoke to the silver haired man on the throne. “I want him,” he shouted.

  The bull horn was used again. The man on the throne spoke, “I was going to save these three for tonight’s show, but what do my guests want?”

  As one, the crowd shouted that they wanted more blood.

  When the soldiers were coming to untie Ron, he leaned over and told Candi, “I love you babe. I always will.”

  “I love you,” Candi told him.

  Then they walked Ron Martin at gunpoint into the cage.

  CHAPTER 44

  The instant that Ron entered the cage the difference in build between him and Tarkus was obvious.

  Even at six foot five Ron was stocky and built heavy. He was an ex-football player and was built perfect for that sport.

  Tarkus was at least two inches taller than Ron and he was ripped. Veins popped out on Tarkus’ arms every time that he moved.

  Where Ron looked to be in pretty good shape for a guy of his size, Tarkus looked like he lived in the weight room and did isometrics about as often as he breathed. Tarkus was built and moved like a highly conditioned prizefighter. Ron, well he was a big strong son-of-a-bitch and that was about it.

  Ron rushed Tarkus and was met by a side thrust kick to the chest that knocked him backward.

  Tarkus rushed Ron and was met with an NFL style body block that knocked him into the fence.

  Tarkus circled to the left side and snapped a left jab at Ron’s face. Ron slipped underneath it and was met by a rising knee that brought him out of his crouch.

  Tarkus backed off again and motioned Ron forward.

  It was obvious to me that Tarkus’ tactics were going to be to circle and stab at Ron from a distance. He had the height and reach and quickness to make it work, too. I was hoping that Ron knew what Tarkus was planning for him. The thing was, even if he did, it might not make a difference anyway.

  I took a look at Candi and her face was like stone. She wasn’t going to let any of these idiots know how seeing Ron get his ass kicked was affecting her.

  And Ron was starting to take an ass whipping. Ron learned from eating that knee that he couldn’t just rush in with his head down. He had to be more selective with his aggression.

  Tarkus was teaching Ron why he couldn’t just stand back and wait also. Tarkus moved toward him, snapping out leg kicks and following with long straight punches.

  One of the punches busted open a cut over Ron’s left eye that spurted blood. A kick busted his lips and made his nose bleed.

  After Ron tried rushing Tarkus a few more times and only meeting knuckles and shoe leather from his back-peddling opponent, he was lost for what else he should do.

  That was when Tarkus started taunting him. He started yelling, “American Pig! American Coward!” And pointing at Ron as he was doing it.

  Blood was pouring down Ron’s face from at least a half dozen cuts. Ron smiled through the cuts. He yelled beck, “If I’m a fucking coward then why you keep running? Stand still and fight me, you fucking punk!”

  Tarkus kept up his circling and after Ron ate a good left-right, Ron started keeping his hands up in front of his face. Ron also started pawing at his nose with his left hand as he followed Tarkus around the cage.

  I was just figuring he had a broken nose that he was trying to set at the same time as he was fighting. I found out I was wrong.

  Ron had taken to putting his hands up high whenever Tarkus threw the jab out, but the last time he surprised me, and sure as hell surprised Tarkus, by just eating the jab and flinging his left hand out blindly in the direction of Tarkus face.

  A handful of blood and snot shot out from Ron’s hand and splattered into Tarkus’ eyes.

  Tarkus threw his hands up to his eyes and Ron barreled into him, grabbing him in a bear hug. Then Ron lifted Tarkus from the floor and slammed him down to the cement.

  Tarkus’ head made a loud pop as it struck the cement and he went stiff. Ron rolled Tarkus over with a wrestling move, then mounted his back and, grabbing him by the hair of the head, he pounded his face into the floor.

  “Let’s see how you fucking like this,” Ron yelled at him, as he broke Tarkus’ nose and teeth on the cement.

  The cheering suddenly stopped. The place was silent except for Ron’s shouts and the sound of Tarkus head bouncing off the floor.

  When Tarkus was totally unconscious, Ron reached down and picked up Tarkus’ head in his hands, and then looked up to the man on the throne. “It’s a little different when your boy has to take a bit, isn’t it?”

  Then he wrenched to the side, trying to make Tarkus do an impersonation of Linda Blaire in The Exorcist. It didn’t work. Tarkus’ neck broke before his head swiveled half the way around.

  Ron stood up off of Tarkus and looked back and forth between the two cameramen recording his every movement. He yelled at them, “You can tape this, too,” he gave them both the finger. “Fuck you!” Ron shouted.

  The man on the throne did not look happy. He locked eyes with Ron. He picked up the megaphone.

  “Kill him,” he said.

  The soldiers outside the fence weren’t stupid enough to open the gate. They pointed their rifles at Ron and he shouted curses at them and dared them to come inside.

  They opened fire and Ron went down. He tried to get up and they kept firing until he went down again and stopped moving.

  Every time a bullet struck Ron, Candi sucked in a breath but she never looked away.

  CHAPTER 45

  With Ron and Tarkus still laying in the middle of the cage, the spectators filed out of the auditorium. The guy on the throne and Tian Kham went with them. Before they left, Tian Kham gave instructions to some of the guards and six of them came over to where we were still tied to our seats.

  As two guards untied our ropes, four of them held rifles on us. I leaned over to Candi and whispered, “Don’t do anything. Our chance will come.”

  One of the guards stepped forward and backhanded me before my arms were loose. He yelled in my face, “Shut up, American Pig!”

  I was glad my arms weren’t loose yet. If they were I’d have busted that fucker upside the head and got both me and Candi killed. As it was, I just spit out a little blood from a busted lip, grinned at the guard, and let the moment pass.

  After we were standing, the guards tied our hands behind us then lead us outside.

  On the way, o
ut we went down two flights of stairs then passed rooms with exercise equipment and saunas, and passed by a window that showed a large indoor swimming pool. It was easy to figure out that this was the health spa.

  It was day time as we passed outside through the front entrance, and that made me wonder just how long I’d been knocked out from whatever had been in those darts they’d shot us with. Considering it was in the middle of the night when we tried our wreck of a raid, we must have been out for at least twelve hours.

  The guards lead us past the guest hotel and past a large night club with a big unlit neon sign that read The Flesh Pit. Then they lead us past the oversized helicopter landing pad that now had a helicopter in the middle of it that looked like a repainted military troop transporter. That must be how they brought in those howling maniacs that cheered on Tarkus until he bit the dust.

  The guards took us in the side door of an oblong rectangular building. We were herded down a hallway that had the look of an old time western prison.

  On both sides of the hall were rows of cells that were separated by steel bars that were mortared into the floor and ceiling. Children were locked inside the cells. The oldest kid I saw was probably somewhere around twelve or thirteen. The youngest kid I saw in those cells, as unbelievable as it sounds, seemed to be barely old enough to be out of diapers.

  All the children had the vacant look of utter hopelessness on their faces. Kids should be running and laughing and having fun, but these kids looked like all the life had been beaten or raped out of them.

  The guards put me in one cell then put Candi in the one next to mine. We were separated by a wall of vertical steel bars.

  They locked us in and left.

  Each cell had a sleeping cot against the wall. Candi went and sat on the cot and stared forward, not saying anything.

  I tested the bars of the cell and the swinging door, and then checked out the lock. This might be an old fashioned cell but the steel was heavy. I wasn’t The Incredible Hulk so I wasn’t going to be knocking these damned bars down and escaping that way.